Crossroads
by Orangeade
Summary: How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty - V.2 up!
1. Chapter 1

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter One**

..

..

Wednesday afternoons.

It's the same old routine, it has been for months.

Subway and back again.

Back to work.

I've come a long way since then. I suppose. How far is a thousand miles and how long is a lifetime? How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?

Here I am, trying to sound philosophical and intellectual and all I can do is quote Bob Dylan.

But it's what you do around here, I guess. Pretend, imagine that you're something, someone. Sort of like high school only with less cash to blow. I know people who could only ever sound intelligent when they were quoting textbooks. And then there were the jokers who couldn't even do that.

"You missed a good tipper, Forsythe," says Anne, her face flushed red from the steaming espresso machine.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I'm wrapping the apron round my waist again; it comes naturally now, I don't even have to think about it.

"And Harry was here too. Popped in to say hello before he got back to work."

"That's nice."

I begin polish the display and clean up all the grubby fingerprints. Customers are a grubby lot, generally. _I'll have this, and this and this…_

"We hardly see him anymore…now that he's got himself a _girlfriend._"

I can't stop a smile. "Really now?" I ask. "Who's the bird?"

Anne shrugs. "No clue, but he says he'll introduce us one day. Probably next week."

"Probably never," I correct her. Harry tends to be absentminded. Bog only knows how he managed to find a woman patient enough to tolerate him!

Anne laughs. And then she makes me take out the trash.

* * *

"So, started studying for finals yet?"

We're sitting on the steps outside the library. It's gloomy and overcast as predicted by everyone but the weather team. I sigh and shake my head. Yuki tilts her head back and exhales mist. Her bright red hair dips into little pools of rainwater collected on the tiles. She exhales again, and then laughs.

"Look! Spontaneous human combustion! My lungs are on fire!"

Her accent is husky and distinctly Japanese. Like her throat's made out of sandpaper. Made in Tokyo.

"It's because you smoke so much."

She makes a mocking face without looking at me. "Like you're one to talk, Forsythe," she says.

"Well, I'm not the one about to burst into flames am I?"

"Always with the wise-ass comments. Pass me a fag, will you?"

She lifts her head to light a cigarette. Her red hair trails through the puddle. It looks like a puddle of blood. I contemplate vocalizing this observation but then decide against it. She'd love the morbidity of it all far too much.

"So, as I was saying… started studying for finals yet? Where are you up to?"

"Nowhere so far."

She gives me an exasperated expression reserved solely for me. "Are you crazy, Forsythe? Do you know how much time we have left? Do you CARE how much time we have left?-"

"Not really, but you're obviously going to tell me anyway-"

"_**-Four months! **_That's it! Four bloody months until finals! We can't afford to slack off! We must keep working!"

"You're starting to sound like some commie chink," I say, smirking because I know it will irritate her. "'_Long live the revolution!_' '_Workers of the world unite!_' Stuff like that."

"Shut up," she snaps.

Just my luck to wind up with an uber-competitive, hyper-sensitive, anime-watching, stamp-collecting, pseudo-gothic psychopath. But Japanese people are somewhat nutty anyway. Or so I have gathered from my few years out in the wilderness.

"Are you going to Mike's place tonight?"

"What's happening at Mike's place?"

"The usual. Sex, drugs and alcohol. Oh, and scrabble."

"Mmm…maybe."

Yuki stretches her short, pale arms and her shirt rides up enough for me to see her tattoo. It's bizarre, just like she is – it's Mickey Mouse. The original Mickey, like how it was in the 1930s, like when Walt was still alive and eating baked beans out of tins.

I never expected life to be like this.

When you're in high school you take everything for granted. You take Friday freaky movie nights for granted, you take trips to Pop's for granted, you take having a bedroom of your own for granted.

When you're in high school everyone expects to become a doctor or a lawyer or an engineer or an artist or something exotic.

Then you get out into the real world and realize that you're probably either going to end up working as an insurance salesman working the nine-to-five shift or as a waiter in a dingy café eating ramen three meals a day, seven days a week.

When I left high school, I was going to be an architect.

And now where am I? Paying my way through community college doing some retarded arts degree. Wasting time until the right time comes. Social sciences. Humanities. Call it what you will.

When you're in high school,

You take your friends for granted.

Some more than others.

Anyway, the point is that I was supposed to _amount_ to something.

Yuki stubs out her cigarette on a wet tile, rises to her feet and zips her boots back on. She doesn't realize her hair's wet. Or maybe she does but pretends not to care?

"Let's get back," she says, "I'm working the night shift and I want to take a shower before I do."

How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?

* * *

Yuki is correct, as always. It's the usual all right. Drugs, sex, alcohol and scrabble. I don't know why I even bother to come to these things; there's nothing for me to do, really. I don't have a girlfriend to shag in his guest bathroom, I'm not enough of a crack head to waste my night getting stoned, and I'm not enough of a wordsmith to beat Mike at scrabble.

"Have a beer, Jones?"

Thankfully, I am enough of an alcoholic to enjoy a pleasant evening out on the balcony with a beer.

"Thanks."

"Haven't seen you around lately, man. Where've you been?"

"Just work at the moment. And classes."

"Finals coming up, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Harry said he'd drop by today."

I roll my eyes. "As if."

"No, man, seriously. He says he's bringing his new girl too."

"Ecch," I gag. "Women!"

Herb raises his eyebrow at me quizzically. "Are you sure you aren't gay?"

"I'm QUITE sure. And let's change the topic please, this conversation got old about the fifth time we had it."

"But you _must _be."

"I must be what, green on the inside with purple premolars?" (Here Herb looks at me in confusion) "Don't be ridiculous."

I wag my finger at him severely - "I can assure you, sir, that I am not a queer."

"You hate women more than other women do."

"I don't _hate_ women – I just think they're a bit of a nuisance."

"Uh huh. GAY!"

"I highly doubt you'd know more about my sexual preferences than I."

"Maybe you're in denial, man. I have this one catholic friend-"

"I can assure you that I am neither in denial, nor catholic."

"But you _bake_."

"So?!"

Herb shrugs. "I dunno, it's just that its not something most guys would do."

"I happen to enjoy cooking. That doesn't make me gay. And need I remind you that I enjoy eating even more than that? I don't know what's more masculine than pigging out."

"Well," says Herb, "maybe you're like the GUY, and another guy would be the…uh…girl-guy…uh.."

I feel torn between amusement, pity and irritation as Herb honestly tries his best to ease me out of the closet he suspects I suffer in. But seriously, I am not gay. When I tune back into the conversation Herb is telling me about his catholic friend. I suppress a sigh.

"A heated debate questioning the sexual preferences of an individual at such a time and place must, by rule of law, involve my dear friend Mr. Jones. May I intrude?"

I spin round and find myself within making-out distance of Harry.

"Hey, Harry," I say. I can feel my body relaxing, his breath on my face, his aftershave. This is better. Old, familiar faces. None of that three-time-national scrabble-champion bullshit.

"_Forsies_, heart of my heart, I know I haven't been the most attentive of friends as of recent-"

"Don't worry about it," I say, grinning, "I heard about the girl."

Harry, to my surprise, goes red.

Herb sighs. "Another one bites the dust!"

"Hey, now!" exclaims Harry, "I'm not _that_ far gone!"

"Yeah, whateverstuff, man."

"Where is she?" I ask.

"Saying hi to Pam. Old school mates or something."

"Really?"

"Mmmn."

Harry is English. Infuriatingly so. He is my lifeline in this strange town, my emotional support, though I would never admit this. I suppose he's my best friend without realizing it. He is a chronic workaholic and rarely gets his foot out of the office. Maybe having a girlfriend means I'll be seeing more of him? I miss the luxury of trust.

So!" says Harry, clapping his hands together, "where's the booze?"

"Kitchen. Wait here, I'll grab a couple."

"Thanks, Jones."

The kitchen is full of gluttons (though I tend to use the term _gourmet_ instead of _glutton,_ especially where it's applicable to_ me_. It sounds far more socially acceptable.). Makes me wonder why I'm not there myself. Then I take a look at the a la carte and understand why. I feel nauseous. A bottle of goddess salad dressing, and a couple of slices of bread. That's all. Oh God, I hope this is nothing but a terrible nightmare! PLEASE LET ME WAKE UP! LET ME WAKE UP RIGHT NOW!! MAKE THE PAIN ENNN-

"Juggie? Is that You?"

I glace towards the door, my expression still decidedly morose. Salad dressing, _honestly!_

…and get the shock of my life.

"Forsythe!"

Harry walks up behind her and gives her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "This is she," he says proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

She's wearing her hair down, just the way I liked it. Her lips are deep red, like an expensive French hooker. Her eyes are smoky with kohl, and her blue eyes still cut across the room like signal flares.

She's like sex on legs and I'd like to fuck her right where she's standing.

"Betty."

…


	2. Chapter 2

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Two**

..

..

Of course Harry was happy we knew each other. I told him we went way back. I told him we used to be best friends, a whole bunch of us. We were inseparable, I told him. And then we graduated and never saw each other again.

We're in the shop, the six of us, Harry, Betty, Herb, Yuki, Anne and I. Anne's cleaning the counter top and I'm sweeping the dirt into a dustpan. She's cranky because she's hungover but still needs to get up earlier than usual to open shop. Harry and Betty sit side by side on bar stools. Herb is finding his centre, preparing himself for his morning yoga. Yuki's passed out on one of the tables. The sun is just coming up. We've been here all night. After all, Thursday has always been poker night. Everyone else left around four. But we're still here, cleaning up and getting ready for a new day.

I'd better be getting paid overtime for this.

I am also very hungry.

"I'm hungry," I announce suddenly and Betty smiles.

"When are you not hungry, Juggie?"

"Very rarely," I say.

"It's unfair that you can eat so much and still stay so damned skinny," says Harry grumpily.

"Just lucky, I guess."

"Hrrmph," grunts Harry.

"I'm hungry," I say again. "Who wants to accompany me to Cinabon?"

"HEY! What's wrong with _my_ food, Jones?"

"Nothing, Anne, only I'm sick of it."

"Of all the nerve-!"

"_SO,"_ I repeat myself, "who wants to accompany me to Cinnabon?"

Harry stretches lazily. Everyone looks at each other hopefully. Finally Betty slides off her stool with a sigh.

"Fine, I'll go, lazybones."

Harry grins groggily and pats her bum as she walks by.

"I love you," he says.

She just smiles.

* * *

So that's how we ended up here, stuck in the rain, in a dingy second-hand book store. Perhaps an umbrella would have been a prudent purchase? Why don't I ever think of these things in advance?

Betty walks along the isles, browsing through the classics. Frankenstein. The phantom of the Opera. Alice in Wonderland. Watership Down. Every time she sees something she likes she stops beside it, smoothens her hair and smiles a secret smile – similar to the smile she used to reserve for when she and Archie shared a moment in Ron's presence – but not quite.

"I love this book!" she says suddenly, pulling it off the shelf and tossing it to me.

Alice in Wonderland.

"You remind me a lot of Alice, Bets."

She smiles questioningly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, stuck in a rabbit hole with no way out."

I bite my tongue. I've learnt to be cautious with words. You don't use them unnecessarily; they're like nuclear bombs. Words can break you.

She stands there for a while, not agreeing nor disagreeing and taking in the downpour. Something has settled between us, though it is not uncomfortable. Somehow it feels like I'm in dangerous territory. _Get out_, says my gut. _Too late_, says my brain.

Betty and I were never really close. Sure, we hung out, but we never got involved in each other's lives. She chased Archie, and I chased the first bus out of Riverdale. It was none of my business what she did, though she did sicken me at a point. She was so pathetic, moping and pining over someone who obviously was using her at his convenience. Arch was a jerk like that. But he used to be my best friend. And back in high school, that used to _mean_ something.

Anyway here I am, the idiot, changing two decades of routine with two sentences.

She turns to face me and the dim lights pick up the highlights in her hair, the shine of her lips, the blue bubblegum eyes.

"Yeah, you're right."

She flops down on the armchair in front of me and watches me thoughtfully. I offer her a cinnamon roll, but she declines. I remember she hates them. So I hand her a chocolate muffin instead and save the pastry for me. I guess we'll have to walk back to get more food. There's no way I can stop myself from finishing all this. I am secretly relieved that I have the highest metabolic rate this side of the universe.

"What's new?" she asks.

I shrug. "Nothing, really. Same 'ol."

"Have you heard from any of the gang?"

"Get a couple of emails from Dilton now and again…he's at Harvard-"

"We didn't expect anything less," she says with a smile.

"-but he took a year off to tour India."

She raises her eyebrows. "Really!?"

"Yeah, though if you want my opinion I don't think he'll get back to college."

"Gosh, I can just imagine – Swami Dilton!"

She laughs. It sounds like a dam breaking. Like she hasn't laughed - I mean _really_ laughed - in a long time.

"And Archie?"

"No clue. Last I heard he was heading to L.A."

She frowns. "And how long ago was that?"

"About a year?"

Silence. She then slips off her shoes and crosses her legs beneath her.

"Ron's getting married next year."

"Yeah? Whom to?"

"Some guy…we don't really know him."

"Seriously?"

She nods. "Yup. She's pregnant too."

I'm blown away by this information. "No WAY!"

Betty laughs again. She then sits up and clasps my hands in hers. They're warm and she smells like chocolate. I don't think I've been this close to a woman since I last slept with one.

"Gosh, Jug, let's hang out sometime. I mean really hang out. We used to have so much fun together!"

My head is reeling. I feel like I'm back in high school, asking Debbie to the prom. Betty's still looking at me hopefully. She's wearing a pink bra. Her lips are just there, waiting to be kissed. I say what any guy in my position would say.

"Sure."


	3. Chapter 3

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Three**

..

..

It's Monday morning, just after rush hour. I sink thankfully into one of the mismatched couches and put my feet up on the short coffee table adjacent to it. Anne growls protectively over her furniture. I drop my feet immediately.

"Coffee?" she asks, holding up the pot.

I nod. "Please," I say.

"It's been a long morning. Why don't you take a break?"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"I think you're trying to dirty my furniture."

"Very perceptive."

"I am."

"I guess it comes with age."

Anne throws a dishtowel at me as she turns to disappear into the back room and I have to duck. Then the bell above the door rings, signaling that we have a new customer. I groan inwardly and rise to my feet, still aching and throbbing from running around so much. But when I look up I realize I'm being pleasantly surprised.

"Hey, Forsythe!" calls Harry from across the room.

"Harry!" I say, and can't help but smile. His good mood is infectious. "What'll you have?"

"Nothing for the moment, Betty is on her way."

I wriggle my eyebrows suggestively. "Aah! A date!"

Harry colours. "Something like that," he mumbles, embarrassed.

Our voices draw Anne from the back room, where she was pretending to check the stocks but was really trying to take a nap. She is ecstatic that Harry has finally turned up with the intention of staying longer than his usual two minutes. She becomes even more excited when she realizes that his new girlfriend will be joining us.

"What!?" she cries. "Why couldn't you have told me this earlier? Didn't I WARN you last time?! Look at the state of this shop! Now your new whatserface ("Her name is Betty," says Harry) will turn up and be completely and absolutely nauseated at the thought of even- FORSYTHE! Hurry! Spoof this place up a bit! Heaven knows that poker night didn't really leave the best of impressions on her-"

"Relax, Anne," smiles Harry warmly. "It's a bit too late for that. Anyway, Betty will be here faster than you can say-"

The bell above the door tinkles as Betty pushes it open.

"-Jack Nabbit."

She smiles when she sees us. "Hello."

"Hey, Bets," I say.

Anne swoops down on her and squeezes her. They prattle about mundane things for a while before she addresses me again. "I'll leave you two alone. Jones, you're up."

Betty laughs and takes the seat opposite Harry. He stretches his hand out to clasp hers. It makes me want to shudder. PDAs were never really my thing.

"So," I say, ignoring the strange churning sensation that has begun in the pit of my stomach, "what'll it be?"

"I'll have a caramel latte," she says.

"Just regular for me, thanks," Harry informs me.

"Sure, be with you in a jiffy."

I retreat behind the counter and begin the needful. The aroma of freshly ground coffee soothes me, and I feel much less uncomfortable. Behind the counter is _my_ space; it's sacred and can only be infiltrated by one other besides myself, Anne.

And it is she who leans across the counter and whispers to me under her breath, so Betty will not hear.

"I'm happy he brought her today. In all honesty I never really saw much of her at poker night. I was much too drunk."

I stifle a grin.

"Just look at 'em, Forsie. That's some heavy heart-warming shit right there."

I comply and see Harry Brushing the hair out of Betty's eyes. She smiles, he smiles, Anne smiles, and I feel awkward. _Eurgh._ What a nauseating display of public affection.

Just then Betty decides to look my way and our eyes meet.

What follows is a moment of unimaginable intensity that confuses us both. It lasts for all of two seconds, so Anne and Harry don't notice, but Betty and I sure do. Or, at least,_ I_ noticed. When she turns away I'm left nursing a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that I don't quite understand.

Come on, Forsythe. Snap out of it.

I realize then that Harry's coffee is almost cold. I panic, squeeze in half the bottle of caramel into Betty's mug, and dash for the table. Anne makes her way back to the store room.

From within the fog that has seemed to settle around my brain, my body registers the fact that it is hungry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Four**

..

..

The next day, Betty comes in alone.

"Morning," I say.

"Where's Harry?" asks Anne.

"Morning," smiles Betty. "Harry's at work. As usual."

She sighs.

"Don't let that bother you," smiles Anne, whose liking of this girl before us has increased tenfold just because she decided to come here, of all possible places in this sprawling metropolitan mess of a city, of her own free will.

I can tell. It's a gift.

"What'll it be today?" she asks.

"Hmn…chai."

"I like chai too," I say, and then realize that I probably sound like an idiot.

"Oh?" says Betty, settling herself on one of the stools by the counter.

I measure out the spices from little glass bottles and begin to prepare them. Betty watches me, fascinated.

"You're very good with your hands," she observes.

I'm so surprised by this comment that I almost drop a bottle. "Er…thank you. What makes you say that?"

"Just the way you handle your equipment," she says.

Deep within the recesses of my brain, I feel that if we were living in a porno, all her statements would have _very_ different meanings. I do my best to stifle a grin.

"You know, if this was a porno what I just said would have a completely different meaning," she says, somewhat abashedly, somewhat amused.

_Wow_, goes my brain.

"That's crazy," I laugh, "I was thinking the exact same thing!"

"No way!"

"But of course, we are virtuous people," I say, in mocking solemnity.

"Of course!"

"We'd never engage in such frivolity!"

"Only on Mondays and Fridays!"

We both laugh. She then spends the rest of the morning with me, and the afternoon, and some of the evening. Then we do it all over again the next day. And the next. And the next, and before you know it, it becomes routine.

Something akin to a need to exercise caution registers in my brain, but I don't understand why, so I ignore it. After all, we are only friends.


	5. Chapter 5

Crossroads

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Five**

..

..

She's draped over the end of my bed, her legs in the air, swinging them to the beat of The Beatles' Penny Lane. Every now and then she reaches into a packet of crisps and feeds me; one for you, one for me. It's routine now. Today's routine, anyway.

"-So I told her it came down to a question of ethics, really – do you want that last piece of pear?"

I shake my head and pass the plate.

"Thanks."

We've been like this every day for the past three and a half weeks. Anne's given me time off to study; though I'm barely getting any work done with Betty around.

"You've been staring at that page for the past half hour, Jug."

See what I mean?

"It's a tough subject, okay?"

"Let me see."

She turns onto her stomach and leans over my shoulder. I can smell her hair. Mint. I sigh. She's making me hungry.

"Want some ice cream?" I ask finally.

"What flavour?"

"Mint chocolate chip. I admit, it was your shampoo that did it."

"My shampoo?" she laughs.

"Yeah."

She frowns disapprovingly like a schoolteacher. "But Juggie, you're supposed to be studying!"

"Well I couldn't possibly study now that I'm hankering for something!"

She narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Are you pregnant?" she asks.

"Oh my god, you _know!!_ Don't tell my parents, _please!_ I-"

A well aimed pillow renders me speechless.

* * *

There's something about the way she eats spaghetti.

She makes it look like an elaborate, graceful dance.

Twirl, twirl; smile; twirl, twirl, scoop.

I can barely tear my eyes away. But I don't quite understand myself. I've never noticed such a thing about a female before.

Not even Debbie; and at seventeen I thought I knew what real love was.

But sitting here alone with Betty, on my balcony (that's barely large enough for me) watching her twirl spaghetti…

I'm almost afraid to speak lest I should ruin the moment.

I'm almost afraid to think lest I realize that I love her.

Because that doesn't become me. I'm Jughead, the woman-hater; the almost-odd, suspected closet homosexual. My first and only passion has been food.

"Mmm…" she says. "This is amazing. It tastes…mmmn!"

My throat goes dry. Is there such a thing as spaghetti sex? If not, there is now.

"Juggie, you should consider opening a restaurant or something. This is seriously the simplest, most scrumptious thing I've had in years!"

I can feel my resolve weakening.

_She was never_

_Supposed to_

_Get _

_This far_

_In._

She smiles at me again, and I swear that for a moment, my heart stops beating.


	6. Chapter 6

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Six**

..

..

"Why don't you have a girlfriend, Juggie?"

We're sitting at our café, sipping chai. We are halfway through our morning ritual. She lifts the cup to her nose and inhales its' calming aroma, sighing blissfully. I'm a little curious as to why she asked such a question, but I reply as nonchalantly as possible.

"Just lucky, I guess."

She rolls her eyes. "Women aren't all that bad, Jughead."

"Says YOU."

I know better. GOD, I know better. I want her to uncross and cross her legs again, because then they brush against mine. She looks so kissable first thing in the morning, in her pink candy cane dress and hair in a messy ponytail.

As I was saying, I know my stuff. "Women are nothing but trouble."

"I'm a woman and I'm not giving you any grief, am I?"

If she only knew.

"You don't count. I _know_ you!"

"Well I'm sure you'd know your girlfriend before you asked her out!"

"I don't need a girlfriend."

No, I need Betty Cooper.

"Now let's take Harry for example-"

And then the world stops spinning. My stomach drops out under me; several tons of lead seem to have taken its' place. Guilt seeps in like oil and forms a thin film around my lungs. I take a millisecond to convince myself that I haven't done any wrong, but…

It doesn't work. In my heart I know I am the worst kind of human.

The ground appears to fall beneath me, and I can almost see hell.

_Shit._ Shitshitshitshitshit. Harry.

_What am I doing??_

"Where _is_ Harry?" I ask in a desperate attempt to change the subject. My chai has lost its flavour. All I can feel are my intestines wriggling guiltily like snakes in my abdomen.

"Harry? Work. As usual."

"You should spend more time with him," I say, in an attempt to ease my guilty conscience.

_Like hell!_

She smiles mischievously. She's suddenly sixteen again, she looks like the devil personified. Like sex on legs. The Devil is a woman. Has to be. How else can she do this to me?

"He spends more than enough time with me every morning, for your information, Mr. Jones. In fact, I think I get more of him than-"

"-I have to go." I interrupt too quickly.

Before I do something I regret. Like tell her how I feel.

She blinks. "What? Why? Where to?"

_Keep it together keep it together keep it together! _

"I promised Yuki I'd meet her ten minutes ago."

Smooth. Real smooth, Jones.

"Oh, so then I'll come with you!"

"No, it's alright. It'll be boring anyway. We're getting together to study."

She smiles, and it's for me. "Finally, you're working!"

I could die for her smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Seven**

..

..

The inevitable happens on Saturday morning. Harry joins Betty at the coffee shop. It is his first free weekend in weeks. My heart plummets through the floor and keeps on going. I'm sure it's reached the centre of the earth by now.

"Hey, Forsythe! It's been a while!" grins Harry, pulling me into a one-armed hug.

I am afraid to touch him. My hands are Judas' hands, the hands of the betrayer. How could I even…

"Harry!" calls Anne, overjoyed.

"Morning!"

I feel like the outsider watching a long awaited family reunion. I feel…

I feel…

I don't know what I feel beyond the guilt.

"What'll you have, Harry? I know these two will have chai, as usual."

"As usual?" asks Harry, eyebrow raised.

I feel my eyebrows knit. She never told him that we meet? What does that mean? There is a millisecond of awkward silence before Betty comes to our rescue.

"Juggie and I meet here every morning when we come for coffee," she explains. "Or rather, chai."

"I see," says Harry, smiling. But I can sense that something in the air has changed. Is my guilt so potent that it cannot be hidden?

"What else am I to do with myself? You're gone so early anyway. Besides, he and Anne are great company."

"I'm glad you aren't alone," says Harry. He looks me right in the eye and I have to struggle to return his gaze, and to remain neutral. For once, I can't tell what he's thinking.

I am terrified.

I hurriedly drink my chai, exchange pleasantries, and leave.

In my heart, I know that I am a coward.


	8. Betty Interlude I

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Betty - Interlude I**

..

..

I didn't notice it, at first. It's one of those gradual things you take for granted. Like getting a tan on a tropical island. Like being a glutton and never putting on weight. Like spending weeks with someone and realizing only after they've started to avoid you that you've never in your life felt so comfortable, so at home, with a single human being.

Like how it was with Juggie.

I haven't seen him in a week. He doesn't return my calls.

It scares me how much I miss him.

Harry thinks I'm still asleep. He rolls onto his side and I quickly shut my eyes. I don't know why I feel so irate. I don't understand why I'd rather spend the day with Jughead at Annie's instead of spending the day in bed with Harry. I don't understand why I get so annoyed when he tries to kiss me. I used to like his kisses. I mean, they were never soul searching or I never felt that we were destined to be together or anything, but still. They were good kisses. Honest kisses.

Harry brushes a strand of hair away from my face. I can see him smiling in my mind's eye. I can feel his emotion. But I still wish I were anywhere but here. I feel like I'm lying to myself.

But I'm not. I'm not lying to myself.

I love Jughead, yes. He's my best friend. We finish each other's sentences and we enjoy the same movies and we both love the Beatles.

But I love Harry more. I love Harry more. _IloveHarrymore._

Maybe if I keep chanting it like a mantra, this oddly guilty sensation will leave me?

I miss the way he smells when he hugs me. He'd never touch me more than is polite; Juggie isn't the type. But those wonderful, wonderful, 'nice-to-see-you' hugs are just…wonderful. And He has that lovely 'clean boy' smell. Like soap and water and freshness and something else.

And I hate the way he makes me ache for his touch, at the risk of sounding corny. And I hate the way he makes me not miss Harry. I hate the way I don't even _remember_ Harry until I feel guilty. And I love the way he makes me not want to be anywhere else but right there, in that moment.

Shit.

But no. I love Harry. I love Harry. _IloveHarryiloveharryiloveharry._

This will not do.


	9. Chapter 8

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Eight**

..

..

Six missed calls in one day. I don't return them. I need to stay away from her.

Yuki sets a mug of chocolate on the table; this is what she does when she's about to have a serious discussion.

"Right, our exams are in a month-"

I block her out. Exams are the last thing I want to hear about. How could I possibly think about exams when my centre of gravity has been violently and suddenly shifted? Since when have I been cut up over a female? Since when have I cared about what a woman might say or do? Since when have I been such an emotional wreck?! God damn women! God damn life! And just because I can, God damn the French!

I pull myself out of my state of hysteria, proud that I have been able to fool Yuki with my calm façade, and tune back in to reality, where I find that she's still ranting with a vengeance.

"-so you can't afford to muck around!"

I sigh, and turn to face her.

"You know what, Yuki?" I say, "You're absolutely right."

She blinks. "I am?"

"You are."

She narrows her eyes. "You've never given in so easily before. What's going on?"

"Nothing." I rise to my feet and place my hands, at arms length, on her shoulders, and gaze somberly into her eyes.

We stare at each other in silence. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. My hypothalamus is in overdrive. I think this is me having a revelation. I think this is me having an epiphany. I am oddly both elated and downcast at the same time. I can practically hear Eliza Dolittle yelling 'by George I think he's got it!' in my brain. Yuki ruins the moment, as usual.

"God, you're not going to kiss me, are you?"

I try not to roll my eyes.

"No, Yuki. I'm not. Sorry if I disappointed you."

"Don't flatter yourself," she says. "I'd rather kiss a pig."

I smile. "It'd be practically the same thing, anyway."

She laughs.

I know what needs to be done.

* * *

Withdrawing myself from Betty Cooper is a lot more difficult than I expected it to be, but I've made it past three weeks now. I'm very proud of myself. At the same time, a little voice keeps calling me an idiot for letting her go, but… I'm satisfied.

For the first time in my life, I'm doing the unselfish thing.

Now she and Harry can concentrate on building a wonderful life together, and soon they'll be married and having pink, fat babies who puke in unison by the bucketful and everyone will be happy.

Everyone will be happy.

_Everyonewillbehappy._

Maybe if I chant it like a mantra I'll believe it?

I've actually been studying. Anything to get my mind off Betty, _ANYTHING_. Yuki keeps me up until all odd hours of the morning and force-feeds me coffee and donuts.

'Double your caffeine and blood-sugar levels!' she says, with the vain hope that we'll maintain our drive. But sugar and caffeine can't beat Betty. Every time I think I see her out of the corner of my eye, or get a sudden whiff of her perfume, or feel the brush of her hand against mine, I fight to triple, no, _quadruple_ my concentration.

"I'm really proud of you, Forsythe," says Yuki, eyes scanning a mock paper she'd set for me. "I think you're ready."

"_No."_

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not ready."

I can't be ready. I still _dream_ about her, for Christ sake!

"But you know everything! You're almost as smart as I am, now!"

"Er…I'm still not sure when it comes to…er…this section in…er…"

"Is something the matter, Jones?" asks Yuki, unusually perceptive.

I consider lying, but decide against it.

"Everything's the matter, Yuki," I say wearily.

"Well," she says, reaching forward to grab another donut from the box, "it appears that you have just maxed out _my_ solution to all life's problems…that being pretending that nothing is more worrisome than passing your exams."

I sigh. "What do I do now?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. Soul searching?"

"_Please."_

"Chill, Mr. Sarcasm. Here, have a smoke."

"Thanks. _Aaaah…_"

When the smoke fills my lungs and the nicotine floods my system, my hysteria wanes.

"Good. Now that you're properly sedated we can have a serious discussion."

"Ha ha."

"Meditation?" she suggests. "I have a cousin who's the last surviving victim from his family of the Kobe 'quake and he controls his violent emotions through intense self-reflection and meditation."

Then I have a brainwave.

* * *

"Now, inhale…and…exhale…like this…_whooooo…WHOOoooO!!_"

I smile tentatively at my 'guru', clad in a simple white linen pants and cotton t-shirt. He's let the wilderness take over; his beard reaches halfway down his neck, his hair has been swept into a tight ponytail. His skin is weathered and tan. His feet are cracked and his palms are rough. He looks nothing like the round-faced boy who sat next to me in chemistry.

But he still has the same blue eyes.

"Thanks for this, Dilton. I know you're only in town for a week."

"Anything for you, brother. Now, breathe…"

I inhale.

"So," asks Dilton, "how did that last paper go, hmm?"

I exhale. "It went okay. I passed."

"That's good," he smiles. "And your classmates? Are they satisfied?"

"You know, you talking to me completely defeats the purpose of meditation."

"And what purpose is that?"

"So that I can achieve a higher level of being by not being distracted by petty things?"

He laughs.

"Oh, no, Jughead. You're wrong. And I'm not a fool."

"Why?" I ask, feeling slightly offended. What, I'm too shallow to want to achieve Nirvana???

"Jughead, you want to meditate to escape a worldly fear."

I wince.

"Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me, my brother. Want to talk about it?"

"When did you realize…?"

"I knew from the moment I first spoke to you, Jughead."

"_What?!"_

He merely smiles.

"You mean you came here all the way from India…?"

"Because you needed a friend, Jughead."

I think I cried.


	10. Betty Interlude II

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Betty - Interlude II**

..

..

"Hmmm…" breathes Harry.

"Stop it," I say, "You're mussing my hair!"

"I can't help it, you smell amazing."

I can't even feign laughter anymore.

"_Please_, Harry. And could you pass me those earrings?"

He sighs. Does he realize?

"Sure, darling."


	11. Chapter 9

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Nine**

..

..

…

The walk down to Mike's place is long. It is a humid, sticky mid-summer's night. They are celebrating the end of the exams. Finally, finally, finally.

I suppose I should be happy.

I feel like I'm living a gothic poem. I am the eulogy of a lost opportunity, the eulogy of a life that could have been. But I am still-born. I have never felt so empty.

I see her standing on the balcony, her face illuminated by the dim glow of fairy lights lining the iron-wrought railing. _Fairy lights at an end of examinations party? Is Mike crazy??_

She's far enough away to be the size of a Barbie doll, but I can still see her mouth, slightly parted, smiling stiffly, and I can see Harry with his arm around her waist. Something wrenches in my chest, in the pit of my stomach; wrenches the breath away from my lungs; and I'm just about to turn away when she spots me. It's too late to dodge her gaze. Our eyes meet.

"_JUGHEAD!"_

She jumps forward to grasp the railing and calls my name desperately across the street, but I am already on the move.

"_JUGHEAD, WAIT!!"_

* * *

She catches up to me outside Annie's café. She doubles up and gulps in large, wonderful mouthfuls of air.

We both stand there, breathing heavily at each other, for about five minutes. When she looks up again I'm already striding forward; I slam her against the wall and kiss her and kiss her and kiss her _andkissherandkissherandkissher_ until her lips are raw.

And then she's suddenly kissing me back, she pulls me into her, grabs my body and winds her arms around me, and I wonder whether she's feeling as hollow as I.

**_Between the idea  
__And the reality_**

I don't know how it happens, but we wind up inside. My brain is static. I can't think anymore; I can only feel. I can only feel her. Only her. Only Betty.

**_Between the motion  
__And the act_**

My fingers are pulling her hair down; they wander as a wanderer might over her skin, through her hair, through her soul.

_**Falls the Shadow**_

I sweep the counter clean with my arm; jars and jars and napkin holders fall to the floor with a _shattershatterCRASH_. I don't hear them above the buzzing in my head. I don't hear anything other than her moans and her sighs. I don't see anything other than her.

Tonight,

She is my universe.

**_Between the conception  
__And the creation_**

She leaves the counter and we fall on our knees to the floor, and our lips are fevered, our tongues are tangled, our bodies are entwined. She is beautiful like silk. She is beautiful like warm, amber, cinnamon-kissed cider. She kisses like candyfloss.

I pause for a moment and see the universe in her eyes.

'_You are my universe,'_ they say.

**_Between the emotion  
__And the response_**

I pin her beneath me, and breathe. She fills my lungs, my soul, my heart. She smells like chocolate; seductive, wonderful, rich, creamy chocolate. I kiss her eyelids.

When I take her, I take all of her.

She writhes and screams like a siren drawing in drowned sailors. Sailors who drown in her voice. Sailors who drown in her.

We are both lost on this ocean, we are both drowning; we are drowning in each other. I am not gentle. I bite and bruise and hurt. And she hurts right back. We are drowning out the hurt with whatever we have left in us. We are the universe.

_**Falls the Shadow**_

When it is over, she lies back in my arms, kisses my jaw, and buries her face in my neck. Then she cries. And cries.

And cries.

**_Between the desire  
__And the spasm_**

All I can do is hold her, kiss her temple and whisper into her hair; _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. _

**_Between the potency  
__And the existence_**

And she clings onto me for dear life like a doomed man clings to driftwood in the endless expanse of a sea of doubt.

**_Between the essence  
__And the descent_**

"Oh, Juggie…" she sobs, "I love you. _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou._"

_**Falls the Shadow**_

And all I can do is murmur "Shh…" and stroke her and pet her. I cannot reassure her because I can't guarantee that everything will be alright. I cannot guarantee that all this is real, that all this will last beyond sunrise.

But tomorrow can wait.

And so can our demons.

_**For Thine is the Kingdom  
**__**For Thine is  
**_**_Life is  
__For Thine is the_**

"Thank you," she says, pressing her lips to mine.

"What for?" I ask.

"Everything."

Our sweat and tears mingle on our skin. This is not forever, but…

Tonight, we are the universe.

_**This is the way the world ends  
**__**This is the way the world ends  
**_**_This is the way the world ends  
__Not with a bang but a whimper._**


	12. Chapter 10

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Ten**

..

..

I don't see her for the next six weeks. Around week five Yuki tells me that she and Harry've gone to meet his parents. I don't say anything because I can't feel anything.

Anne seems to notice that I have become an automaton and asks me what the matter is.

I tell her I haven't been sleeping well lately.

She asks me if it has anything to do with Betty.

I tell her no, of course not. I tell her it's exam stress.

She looks at me funny and gives me a free cookie.


	13. Betty Interlude III

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Betty - Interlude III**

..

..

I am at Harry's parents' place.

There is a restless silence in me that I cannot suppress. I cannot sleep at night.

When the wind blows through the house it flattens the curtains against the window screen, as if the house is sucking in a deep breath of air. The house seems alive in the dark. I pull the sheets over my head and move closer to the warm lump beneath the bedclothes that is Harry.

I am waiting for the boogeyman.

I can hear his nails drag across the windowpane as the branches of the olive tree do. I can hear his breath in the rustling leaves outside, his breath is the mist that hovers over the still pond water. His black soul is in the shadows thrown against my bedroom wall. His heartbeat is my own - thrumming and beating percussion like fear in the form of music.

I am waiting for the boogeyman.

Come and get me.


	14. Chapter 11

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Eleven**

..

..

At Christmas I go back to Riverdale because everyone else is doing it. The house is in a state of chaos because my mother is doing the laundry.

"Ah, Fosythe!" she says, and smiles tiredly. "_Goodness!_ You've lost so much weight since I saw you last!"

"Hi, Mom," I say, leaning forward to peck her cheek.

"I'm doing the laundry. Are you hungry?"

I realise that I've missed her.

"You relax. I'll cook. What shall I make for lunch?"

She pauses for a moment, fist still enclosing half a sock, to contemplate.

"There are some pork chops in the fridge."

"Great. Where're Dad and Jellybean?"

"Your father's gone out to wrestle the mechanic. Jellybean is at her friend's place."

"The car's still acting up, eh? Why don't you guys just get a new one?"

"Because it's wasteful and unnecessary! And if we did we couldn't afford to feed you lot. Honestly, the amount we spend on food…"

"And why isn't Jellybean here to greet the eldest flesh and blood?! Which friend is this?"

"Hmm. His name is Keith."

"_A boy?!"_

"She's only six, Jughead!"

"It's only a matter of time before-"

"Don't be silly.

"Hmm. Alright," I say skeptically, and proceed to my bedroom, suitcase in tow.

* * *

The air is cool in the evening as I make my way down to Pop's. It is not yet eight thirty, and I know for a fact that Pop's closes at nine. I am going there to meet Archie, after all these years, and I don't want to stay too long.

It's because he reminds me of Betty.

But still, I trudge on unenthusiastically because it is a nicety that I am obliged to fulfill. He is already inside when I arrive, sitting in _our _seat. I feel my distant façade crumble a little - and am ashamed by the fact it is there even before seeing him.

"Jug!"

Archie's smile is wide and sincere and I feel guiltier as he rises to his feet and envelopes me in a warm hug.

"It's been too long!"

I grin weakly. "Hell yeah." I hug back and am the first to pull away. "How are you, man? Where've you been?"

"I've been all over. Just got back from Vegas last week."

"Vegas! I assume you've gambled your kidneys away?"

"Everything but," he grins. "What're you having?"

"The usual."

"Right," he says, and calls a waitress. "So, we'll have two supreme cheese burgers, extra cheese, a chocolate malted, curly fries, and a rootbeer float. You got all that?"

"I think so," smiles the waitress, looking at Archie from under her lowered eyelashes. "Is that everything?"

"Well. Maybe I could get your phone number?"

She giggles and teases a brown curl. "I'll have to see if that's on the menu."

"And if it isn't?"

She giggles again. "I'll see what I can do."

Archie flashes her a thirty-kilowatt smile, his pearly whites gleaming. "Great," he says. When she leaves he leans back in his chair and continues to grin triumphantly.

"What?" he says, noticing that my expression is akin to a nauseous tree frog.

"She looked like she was in high school, you pedophile."

"Don't exaggerate, Jug."

"So when the cops bust you and beat you shitless, don't expect me to bail you out."

"I won't get _copped_," he says.

"Fast forward to your trial. The Honourable Judge Perkins presiding, and he has a bad toothache. How do you plead?!"

"Not guilty!"

"State your case!"

"Your honor! I'm sexy!"

"What an indisputable argument! That settles it then! I sentence you to spend three months as a Vegas freakshow! Case dismissed!"

We both laugh and I realise it's been a while since I've let me self go like this.

"You're _insane_, Jug!"

"And you're crazy. So I guess that makes us even?"

"For now," grins Archie.

The waitress returns with our food and no phone number and though Archie is slightly disappointed I couldn't care less because Pop's makes the best curly fries this side of the universe.

"So, heard from any of the gang?"

I almost choke on my malted.

"Um…" I stall.

"I bumped into Ron by chance in Chicago."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She's getting big," he says, holding his hands over his stomach to show me her exact proportions. "She's due in March."

"I'm glad for her," I say sincerely.

"Mmhmm," he agrees. "Ron told me that Betty was supposed to be heading this way some time just after Christmas."

This time, I really do choke on my malted.

"_What?!"_

"Yeah, isn't that great? I wonder how she's been. I'd love to see her again."

"Just…peachy."

"You don't seem too enthusiastic."

"Nah, I'm just thinking of my mother," I lie. "You know how she is. Chances are when she sees you she'll get all sentimental and start crying. Oh god, and _dad_. What will he do? He just might start crying himself! I mean, he hasn't seen you since we left for college! You're practically their surrogate son! And if it's _really_ bad, he'll even try to cook. And God knows we don't want _that!_"

Archie laughs. "True. I can still taste that honey-chocolate mud cake he baked for our graduation."

"The prospect of nuclear war is less terrifying."

Archie nods gravely. "I agree. I love your dad but I think he should leave the cooking to your mother and take up a safer hobby. Like alligator wrestling."

"So," I say, "when did Ronnie tell you this?"

"This? You mean about Bets visiting?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm. A month ago? Give or take?"

"I see. So, did you watch the new Batman?"

"Yeah! It was amazing! Especially the part where-"

The rest of the hour passes by without event. I tell Archie to drop by the next day, and then make my way back home.

My head is filled with thoughts of Betty and it hurts.


	15. Chapter 12

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Twelve**

..

..

"Mrs. Jones!" says Archie laughingly when he arrives the next evening, embracing my mother warmly.

"Archie! Look at you! I bet you still can't keep the girls away, eh?"

"You're right, as always!"

And they laugh together and all I can do is grin and shake my head and go to the kitchen to prepare some snacks. Jellybean is stuck to me like a limpet, she barely remembers to breathe. I've missed her so much and it scares me how much she's grown. At seven thirty I take her up to bed and tuck her into the sheets and her face is glowing with love.

"Read me a story?" she asks.

How could I refuse? I climb into bed next to her and she's all smiles and missing teeth and she burrows closer and I tell her stories about wizards and magic and princesses until her breathing evens and I know she is asleep.

Archie and I spend the rest of the night on the sofa watching old horror movies. One is in French and we need to put the subtitles on and my father keeps popping in to tell us morbid things like how he used to watch his grandfather slaughter pigs back on the farm and that it looked a bit like what we were watching. Halfway through, we muted the films and dubbed them ourselves, and the end result was something akin to the plotline of a bad soap opera, what with Frankenstein being usurped by his evil, better-looking twin.

All in all, it was a lot of fun. And I was surprised to realise that it was good to be home.


	16. Chapter 13

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Thirteen**

..

..

In the evening on Christmas Eve Archie calls me and tells me to get my butt over to his place.

"Will you guys be alright alone for a couple of hours?" I ask my mother as she adjusts my scarf.

"Yes, yes. Why wouldn't we be? We'll finish off decorating the tree. You go see your friends."

I smile. "See you soon."

She waves until I am out of sight and I turn the corner a little more hurriedly than I'd like to admit. And then I break into a run. I run and run and run, past RiteAid, past Riverdale North's children's play park, past the donut shop, past suburbia, until everything around me becomes nothing but a grey-blue blur. In my head there is no coherent thought, only the pounding of my feet against the asphalt matching the pounding of my heart. The wind is chilly and whizzes past my cheeks and I can feel my lungs seize up and I puff and puff but don't slow down. I wonder if I am having an out of body experience. I feel like I am both me and not me, as if I am watching myself run from a third-person perspective, and yet I am also running. It is exhilarating and I realise that I haven't done anything this impulsive in a long time.

That is, of course, only if you count out sex with Betty on the countertop of Annie's café.

Before I know it I find that my feet have taken me to my old high school. Because it is late evening everything is still and quiet and the trees sway from side to side like old men on a bustling subway train. Their rustling leaves become white noise. The building is made from slate gray concrete and is stained blue-black from the darkened sky. It stands like a colossal mausoleum - and I wonder why it looks so lonely because I've never noticed that before. I walk closer, very slowly, and drag my shoes a little. Then I sit cross-legged in the middle of the student parking lot and stare up at what used to be my home away from home, back when life made so much more sense and I didn't expect so much of myself. And I wonder when everything changed, and why, but I am no closer to the truth than I was a year ago.

I lean back against my arms and listen to the wind and decide that Archie won't mind if I am half an hour late.


	17. Chapter 14

**Crossroads**

**Disclaimer** - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.

**Summary** - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty

**Chapter Fourteen**

..

..

Betty is standing outside his house, her hand balled into a fist and raised at the door, as if she were having second thoughts about knocking. I can hear dulled Christmas carols and laughter and many bad jokes. The setting seems almost picturesque. Then she hears my footfalls and revolves a little too suddenly, and her eyes widen a little but besides that betray no emotion.

"Hey, Bets," I say.

"Hi."

"Are you coming inside?"

"I'm considering it."

I chuckle despite myself. The wind picks up and after a momentary pause Betty speaks again.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"Sure," I say. "Coffee?"

"Sounds good."

So we walk away from Archie's red door and every chance at normalcy, if such a thing even exists.

* * *

Irvin's is still open despite it being Christmas Eve and we both order chai. The air is filled with the sound of jazzy Christmas music and someone has hung mistletoe and glittery baubles from the ceiling. Suddenly we have nothing to say. Betty rummages through her handbag and extends a crumpled box in her outstretched hand.

"Cigarette?"

"You smoke?"

"Now I do."

I take one and allow her to light it for me. The flame flickers and feels warm against my face for an instant before it dies. I wonder if this is one of those signs life always seems to be throwing at us. Or maybe it merely is just a question of opinion. Does life drop you subtle hints? Clues to help you understand? Or do things simply happen? Is it just that things _are_, or that _we_ are? Nothing but an unremarkable phenomenon? In that case there is no such thing as irony and chance and only coincidence.

"Where's Harry?" I ask.

"He is deep within the bowels of the English suburbs, with his parents."

"You're back earlier than I expected."

"You were expecting me?"

"What can I say? News travels fast in these parts."

Her mouth twitches a little. I take a sip of my chai and flick my cigarette ash into my jacket pocket because there is no ashtray.

"How are you?" she asks.

I shrug. "Okay, I guess. And yourself?"

"Mm. So-so."

"And Harry?"

"Blissfully ignorant and oblivious."

"Same ol', huh?"

"Pretty much."

Our silence is interspersed by Diana Krall and the sound of clunking ceramic mugs. Her leg brushes against mine by accident but she does not apologise. Neither do I.

"Are we going to have that conversation?"

" '_That'_ conversation?"

"You know. The one about what happens next. Or do we act like nothing happened and carry on as usual?"

She takes a drag of her cigarette and cocks her head to a side, thinking.

"I'm not sure," she says finally. "Do you want to have it?"

"I don't know."

More silence.

"Well, at least the chai's good."

"It is. I've never had Irwin's chai before. Usually it's just hot chocolate, remember?"

I stretch my legs out and rest them on the edge of the seat of Betty's chair. She smiles and makes room for me. We sit like that for a while, wishing we didn't have to leave our comfortable bubble, wishing we can still pretend that everything is okay.

"He proposed," she says finally.

"Ah," I say. "Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"So you said yes?"

"I didn't say 'no'."

"What does that mean?"

"I didn't say anything. He sort of assumed everything, so I suppose I am engaged."

"I wish you both happiness."

"Shut up."

"Did you expect me to jump for joy?"

"No, but please don't be so…_scathing_."

"_I'm_ scathing?! Don't you think I have every right to be?"

"Don't _I?_"

I sigh and drop my feet.

"So," I say. "What happens next?"

"What do you want to happen?"

"No, Betty. The question is what do _you_ want."

There are only three others in the coffee house besides us. They are most likely high school students who have snuck out and their laughter becomes louder by the minute. I don't understand it at all, but suddenly everything seems so surreal. Diana Krall has been replaced by Frank Sinatra who will apparently be home for Christmas. Betty doesn't say anything so I rise to my feet, scraping the chair against the floor. I have the door open halfway before Betty hurriedly chases after me.

"Juggie!" she calls. "Wait!"

When she reaches me her face is set and her blue eyes are serious and look into mine dead on and then she says:

"I love you."

The wind is cold against my exposed cheeks and hands and one of the girls behind the counter shivers a little.

"So?"

She looks up and points. "Look," she says. "Mistletoe."

And then she kisses me.

I cannot help it - I let the door bang into my side as I wind my arms around her and we are lost in each others' warmth and I decide not to think anymore, because really, I know I am happier right now than I have been in years.


End file.
